


through all of my lives (i never thought i'd wait so long for you)

by marauderas



Category: Brooklyn Nine-Nine (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Reincarnation, F/F, angsty af though but isn't that given with reincarnation aus, sorta canon compliant but not really (you'll see)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-12
Updated: 2018-03-12
Packaged: 2019-03-30 03:43:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,914
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13941876
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/marauderas/pseuds/marauderas
Summary: Over time, Rosa starts to collect patterns and constants; can almost teach herself to predict, gets overconfident and takes a false step. Still, through it all, one thing remains the same—Gina is never short of infuriating and Rosa feels a fate in which she surrenders to her particular brand of madness wouldn’t be that bad a fate at all.or, the dianetti reincarnation au





	through all of my lives (i never thought i'd wait so long for you)

**Author's Note:**

> i'm not sure how to describe this, but i would say it's a series of vignettes into reincarnated lives.
> 
> i have never written for b99 before but after that glorious line at the end of that glorious 100th episode i could hardly resist.
> 
> thanks to august, always.

 

 

 

 

 

Rosa always remembers.

Seldom from the very beginning, but each time, without fail, in the end.

She doesn’t mind having the task bestowed upon her, unless it’s one where they haven’t met yet, or one where they have already crossed paths without even the hint of recognition flashing behind tired eyelids. Those are usually the ones in which awareness hits with a good share of additional weight, and afterwards she finds herself constantly searching, constantly _looking_ for a first shot, or a second, or a third.

It’s easier when they are part of each other’s orbits already, easier when there’s something— _anything_ —to hold on to. Easier if Gina is already there to offer brazen smiles and lingering glances from across the room, even so during those instances in which she still lacks the awareness that has begun to throb in Rosa’s veins.

And whilst the circumstances may change, the pull of gravity doesn’t. They fall into each other effortlessly, fall onto shitty motel beds, fall into labyrinth-shaped games that reek of danger and damnation.

But Rosa doesn’t mind, and Gina rarely needs any convincing.

(There are a few—not many—where it’s over before it begins. She doesn’t like to think about those.)

 

 

-

 

 

The problem, however, lies in the fact that Rosa is impatient by nature; that she doesn’t do passiveness; that these interludes in which Gina walks on clouds of obliviousness require a certain amount of restraint that Rosa simply isn’t wired for. She wants to _take_ , wants to claim what the universe so evidently has orchestrated to become hers, wants to—

She grows broodier and quieter instead, and, ” _So_ angry,” Gina comments in passing, shameless fingertips skittering down Rosa’s back as she rounds her in a room full of people. ”I would offer a penny for your thoughts but intuition tells me there are other, much more enticing trades to be made.”

Rosa scoffs at the sheer audacity of Gina’s hovering hands, skin alight under the fabric of her dress, and swallows the things she knows not to utter, at least not just yet.

Words aren’t a necessity between them, anyway.

One way or another, Gina always finds a way to pull her back.

 

 

-

 

 

Sometimes she grows tired as well.

Tired of scavenging for clues, tired of waiting.

Because time isn’t linear—doesn’t _feel_ linear, at least, not when the sequences of several lifetimes are seared onto the back of her ribs, not when she sees it all so vividly and sharp before falling asleep at night.

And yet the twinge of clarity tends to be considerably less excruciating those times Gina shares her bed, so she forces herself to learn that giving the matter further thought is completely devoid of meaning when Gina is _right there_ , awareness be fucking _damned_ —

Somehow, someway, Gina is always there.

She teaches herself to accept instead, to shut out the voices in her head.

(”Voices?” Gina echoes one time after Rosa—exhausted and careless and still rather breathless—lets something slip.

She swings a leg over Rosa, straddling her waist under wrinkled sheets, and the mattress dips under her knees.

Rosa gives a low chuckle before Gina closes the distance between them, and, ”Kinda like a sixth sense?” she breathes. ”That’s hot.”)

 

 

-

 

 

Sometimes, sometimes Gina beats her to it, gets hit with a wave of images that completely changes the way she unfolds in Rosa’s presence.

Her demeanor becomes either too cautious or too abrasive, as though she’s testing the waters and attempting to find the best way to coax Rosa out of her delusions. She plays on Rosa’s innate curiosity, on the inevitability of it all, on the way darker eyes never fail to follow as she exits whatever room they might find themselves in.

In retrospect, it becomes clear that Gina treats the matter with the care and discretion that she doesn’t reserve for anything else. Still, she taunts and provokes when needed; schemes to deceive the people around them; advances on Rosa until her back hits the brick wall, hits the roof of the car, hits the dry surface of a renowned painting in the foyer—

and then they’re kissing in a poorly-lit alley next to the bar, kissing in the backseat of Rosa’s old car, kissing around the corner of Gina’s parent’s mansion, kissing and falling and crashing full force into each other.

She claims Rosa in all the ways Rosa is afraid to claim her whenever the roles are reversed, and Rosa often catches up soon after, eyes wide and shivers shooting down her spine in the not so rare occasion their liaisons could attract unwanted attention.

(They usually do, and, ”I’d do it all over again,” Gina declares with a smile.)

 

 

-

 

 

Still, Rosa isn’t always ready and Gina doesn’t always wait.

They run away differently, too—Rosa stays but withdraws, lets herself blend with the shadows until the wounds have healed and her actions aren’t being dictated by pride anymore. Gina, on the other hand, often vanishes into thin air, comes back with a flourish, and sometimes—and among them one _particularly_ hurtful time—in the company of someone else.

Rosa doesn’t blame her.

The others never last anyway.

 

 

-

 

 

It brims over once or twice during the coldest winter day the city has seen in decades (she thinks they live that one a couple of times), one during which they’re both wide awake since early on.

Wind biting at her cheeks, Rosa steps back, mutters something about Gina’s flaring volatility, and Gina holds her gaze with something much worse than sadness flashing in green irises.

”I always believe you, don’t I? To forget about that while remembering everything else seems awfully selective to me.”

(And Rosa _hates_ it, hates that her breath hitches at the back of her throat, hates that her ears are pounding in tandem with each syllable being uttered between them.

Because through all of her lives, Gina has claimed to believe in many things—

in different gods and ancient conspiracies; in wicked uproars and approaching apocalypses and wars that are never theirs to shoulder.

And through all of those lives, these things all change, but one doesn’t.

She always, always, _unrelentingly_ believes in Rosa.)

 

 

-

 

 

It happens, more often than not, that they end up on the wrong side of the law.

There’s Gina’s family being deeply ingrained in the mob while Gina builds houses of cards bound to collapse before she can make an escape.

There’s Rosa’s tarnished moral compass pointing to means of survival that she refuses to talk about afterwards; there are taunting shadows and nightmares so vivid they jolt them awake at night.

(There’s also one where they just steal a car and take off.

When Gina asks, Rosa simply tells a tale of wanting to get away.

She doesn’t mention the way her abuela’s eyes had widened when she had understood the nature of her granddaughter’s existence, doesn’t tell Gina about the rapid mumbles of _brujería negra_ and _maldita_ that she barely escaped.)

 

 

-

 

 

Somehow, someway, Rosa always remembers, and Gina is always charging head-first into the unknown, dodging bullets and fires and Rosa’s concern and—

It’s what pushes them to breaking points most times, Rosa’s need to protect and Gina’s utter refusal to remain under anyone’s protection.

Rosa argues, ”You’re not _listening_ . You _never_ listen,” and Gina shrugs, says, ”And yet you would think my not listening would spare us this agonizing scolding,” and grabs a handful of Rosa’s shirt, surges forward to kiss the anger off her lips.

(Rosa pretends not to notice the way Gina is constantly checking for her heartbeat, as though she needs to make sure Rosa is really there and not gone in exchange for Gina’s safety.)

 

 

-

 

 

Over time, Rosa starts to collect patterns and constants; can almost teach herself to predict, gets overconfident and takes a false step. Still, through it all, one thing remains the same—

Gina is never short of infuriating and Rosa feels a fate in which she surrenders to her particular brand of madness wouldn’t be that bad a fate at all.

 

 

-

 

 

And they hold on for dear life, hold on to each other and to memories of moments so effortless it becomes clear that everything else will only ever be background noise.

It doesn’t really matter that Gina has a penchant for running and that Rosa doesn’t always have it in her to trace fading footprints in the snow. Nothing else matters when they’re waking up in rooms with sun-dappled curtains, when they’re sitting on rooftops and the wind is in Rosa’s hair, and—

”You don’t always have to wait,” Gina tells her, not for the first time. Wordlessly, Rosa turns to her. ”I wouldn’t hold it against you. I’m quite the forgiving soul.”

Their nature makes them good at pretending and Rosa never fails to recognize this for what it is—Gina letting her off the hook just in case next time is messier, bloodier.

Just in case Rosa would want to save herself for once.

Rosa smiles. ”I know.”

”Then why do you?”

”Without you, I’m—” She pauses. ”I wouldn’t know what to do, or how not to stray. You ground me. Without you, there’s nothing.”

Gina laughs, leans in to kiss her, and, ”You’re saying I’m a touchstone?” she asks.

”Yeah.”

After all, fear has nothing on Gina’s laughter.

 

 

-

 

 

It’s one of her favorites, the one where they’re all at the Nine-nine.

They navigate through life with earned ease and they aren’t together in the sense they have been before, but they are both _there_ and Rosa clings to an odd sense of security that rears up in her whenever she lets her gaze wander in the general direction of Gina’s desk.

It doesn’t escape her, the utter irony of it all, that she feels the most safe in the eye of the hurricane.

Because Gina is charging head-first, _still_ —

charging into hostage situations, into oncoming traffic, into other people’s welcoming arms.

So Rosa charges, too.

She allows herself to be more reckless this time around, less preoccupied.

(She wonders if Gina would compare her with past selves, future selves. Wonders which one she would like the most, if she will remember any time soon so Rosa gets the chance to ask her about it.)

 

 

-

 

 

But yes, Rosa always remembers, and she always _knows_ —herself, the truth, the things at stake. She knows about the pull of gravity and the weight of past lives, knows that they’re inevitable to one another, and she _does_ know her own heart, as Jake so eloquently has phrased this time around.

(They’re lucky enough to have him around several times. She makes a mental note to thank him someday, somehow.)

And it’s a catastrophe, the whole thing where she tries to stay true to herself (as it often is), but her father comes back to prove that this lifetime still has a few surprises up its sleeve, however small they might be.

The door isn’t wide open for her, not yet, not from their side. But it is (as it always has been) wide open from her found family, who shows up at her place to make up for all the different ways in which she has been disappointed so far.

As expected, Gina shows up with them, and, ”You know, in another lifetime you and I would have made a hot ass couple,” she declares, and Rosa bites back a smile because, well.

They would, they have. They will.

 

 

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> thanks so much for reading! hmu if you wanna yell.


End file.
